


With a Deeper Instinct

by Fire_Sign



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, MFMM Year of Quotes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 11:15:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13612209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Sign/pseuds/Fire_Sign
Summary: When Phryne arrives for a weekend at a country estate, one of the guests looks surprisingly familiar.





	With a Deeper Instinct

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not going to lie--I have been sitting on this Anais Nin quote for nearly a year, because it felt so Phrackish to me, and when it was drawn in the Year of Quotes challenge I was ridiculously excited... except I didn't actually have a plot. At least until a rewatch of Raisins and Almonds and The Scene in the Bookstore made me want Phryne and Jack communicating in that same way, and this little ficlet was created.

_“I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naïve or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman.”_

― Anaïs Nin

* * *

“Phryne, darling, you made it!” Athena Percival cried, stepping into the cool evening air from the front door of her country estate just outside London. “I wasn’t certain you’d received the invitation, scurrying between London and Somerset so often.”

Phryne winced; her parents’ reunion had not been quite so smooth as she had hoped. “The less said about that, the better.”

Laughing, Athena embraced her. “Still, you’re here now. I’ve invited someone… rather unexpected.”

_Jack_. Despite her common sense, despite his message that he was coming but his arrival details were complicated and still to be determined, despite the fact that she was a grown woman who did not _pine_ over a man, he was her first thought. 

“Is he terribly dashing and rich?” Phryne asked conspiratorially, playing the role.

“Better,” Athena confided. “He’s _interesting_.”

Which, really, was all it took to pique Phryne’s curiosity. She wondered what her old school chum would find interesting.

“A musician?” she guessed; Athena had always liked the artists best. “Or a writer?”

“No,” Athena said, leading her indoors, “your little detective business in Australia had grasped everyone’s imagination. I made a few telephone calls―Father’s a magistrate, you know―and I’ve invited the Chief Commissioner of Scotland Yard! Isn’t that _thrilling_?”

Phryne gave a strained smile as she handed her wrap to Athena’s butler. Wonderful; a reason to miss Jack, absurd though it was. Still, no doubt the man would have some interesting stories to tell. Presuming he wasn’t all about paperwork and politics.

“Positively fascinating,” Phryne said, shaking off her ridiculous melancholy; she was here to enjoy herself, and surely once she was in the middle of things she would. 

Athena nodded to one of the servants. “Please follow McKinnon, he’ll take you to your bedroom for the evening. Dinner is in an hour, then drinking and dancing for as long as you can stand it.”

Phryne laughed; it was exactly the sort of evening she needed. 

―――

There were nearly twenty people seated at the dinner table, which―Phryne told herself―was why it took her so long to recognise the man seated at the other end. It was most definitely _not_ because slicked back hair and a tuxedo was enough to make Jack nigh-unrecognisable. 

“Who is _he_?” Phryne asked quietly, leaning towards Athena and nodding.

“The handsome one?” Athena asked. “George Stockwell, of the Adelaide Stockwells. I can introduce you after dinner―I’m sure you can compare the Antipodes to London―but I’m afraid he’s off the market. He’s been here all week and made that very clear.”

Phryne’s smile was positively feline.

“I just bet he has,” she purred. “Please do introduce us.”

As if he’d heard her, he glanced up the table; his double-take was subtle enough that Phryne was certain she was the only one who’d noticed it, or the smile that accompanied it. Complicated arrival indeed.

The meal was finished with the regular sort of discussions, and if it wasn’t for the occasional glances she shot him―it had been so long and their kiss so full of promise, and every time she looked she found him watching her from the corner of his own eye―she could have almost forgotten him. When dinner was done and the party had retired to a large parlour to continue the evening, it was less easy to ignore; the anticipation was delightful. 

She made the rounds, stopping to talk to the other guests. Eventually she reached the small circle where Jack was in deep discussion with two men. Athena was there as well, and she grabbed Phryne’s arm.

“This is fascinating, gentlemen,” she said, in a tone that made it clear she found it no such thing, “but I really must introduce you to my friend, Miss Phryne Fisher. She’s a lady detective, Commissioner Arnold, isn’t that darling?”

“Lost pets and baubles?” Arnold, an older man with ridiculous facial hair, asked.

“Murders, primarily,” Phryne said, sweet as anything. “But I’m willing to assist Scotland Yard in those matters if you require it.”

Jack nearly choked on his champagne, and Phryne turned to him with a brilliant smile.

“And you must be George Stockwell! My aunt has a great deal of fondness for yours, and I’ve heard wonderful things. I wasn’t aware you were in England, how fortuitous.”

“A recent development, I assure you,” Jack said smoothly. “Are you enjoying your evening?”

“Very much so,” said Phryne.

The group made small talk for several minutes; beside her Phryne could feel Athena getting desperate to move on, and and it was getting progressively more difficult not to flirt with Jack more than was permissible, and eventually she made her excuses.

“Before you go, Miss Fisher,” Jack said, “I was wondering if you knew the way to the library? Miss Percival here has the most wonderful selection of Agatha Christie novels; I spent all afternoon reading _The Secret Adversary_.”

There was a tilt to his head, and a look in his eyes; a hint, perhaps. 

“I’ll have to take you up on the recommendation,” she replied. “But for now I spy champagne across the room and I believe it has my name on it.”

Waving her hand in a flirty goodbye, she and Athena left the group. The next hour was taken up by drinks and dancing and conversations with other guests, but in the back of her mind Phryne continued to puzzle over Jack’s arrival. He was undercover, clearly, and the clue to why was in the book. She tried her best to remember the plot―there was political intrigue and a sinking ship… perhaps it had to do with Eugene Fisher then, but it hardly seemed likely he’d be undercover for that. Or maybe it was the characters? The detectives in that one were a thoughtful man and a headstrong woman, she was fairly certain; a flattering comparison, but not necessarily illuminating. Unless… a case early in their acquaintance came to mind, and Phryne smiled. The clue was _in_ the book.

Twenty minutes later she was in the library, a copy of _The Secret Adversary_ in one hand and a dagger in the other. She didn’t need the dagger; there was already a small rip in the spine of the novel―a task that had no doubt pained Jack―and she quickly retrieved the paper he had hidden therein. 

His scrawl was not improved by the small paper, but his words… his words were perfectly right.

__

> _Miss Fisher,_
> 
> _As you have no doubt deduced by now, I am undercover as a small favour to an old friend―in the more common use of the term―at Scotland Yard. The particulars of the case are not terribly interesting in themselves―I suspect Ed is simply looking for any excuse to call in this long standing favour, and it does make things simpler to have an outside investigator―but I've no doubt that matters will soon turn to murder now that you're here._
> 
> _I cannot begin to express my relief at seeing your name on tonight's guest list. My investigative pride refuses to say that I *require* your assistance, but I've no doubt that you will give it and the case will be all the stronger for it. Some fanciful part of me likes to think you prefer my desire over my requirement regardless._
> 
> _The case, such as it is, involves Chief Commissioner Arnold of Scotland Yard, Miss Elaine Thompson-Knight, and half a dozen art forgeries making their way through London Society. I can hear your mind turning already, extrapolating from these few details the likeliest case―yes, her artistic skills come into play, and yes, there are photographs. The primary question is whether the Chief Commissioner is complicit by choice or circumstance, and how far the operation spreads._
> 
> _Investigate. Arnold's bedroom is in the west wing, third on the right. Miss Thompson-Knight's is across from yours. I will not ask what you intend to do with this information, but I'll arrange for us to be seated together at breakfast._
> 
> _Yours,_  
>  _Jack_
> 
> _P.S. Since it is unlikely that I will have a chance to say so in person, allow me to say that―without having yet seen you―you are far and away the most beautiful woman present this evening. Whatever concoction of silk and feathers and furs you choose from your wardrobe, I have no doubt that I will spend half my evening thinking of how to get you out of it. It is terribly inconvenient, and still better than the alternative._
> 
> _P.P.S. I’d tell you which bedroom is mine, but I will leave that up to your investigative expertise. I trust you are up to the task._

Phryne read the letter a second time, feeling her smile grow with each word, then folded and tucked it into her decolletage. Now _this_ was a romantic overture. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [No Unreasonable Offer Refused](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13614843) by [deedeeinfj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deedeeinfj/pseuds/deedeeinfj)
  * [Complicit](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13622790) by [Sarahtoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo)




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